“Why, Mrs. Maxwell and her niece.”

“Her niece?  I didn’t know she had any niece.  How did she get here?”

“She came this noon; followed along after her aunt, I suppose.  I don’t think she knew she was coming.  She acted kind of surprised, I thought.”

“You don’t mean they’re comin’ in here to dinner?”

“I couldn’t very well help asking them, you know.”  His tone was soft and conciliatory, and he kept a nervous eye upon his sister’s face.

“Couldn’t help askin’ ’em!  I ruther guess I could ‘a’ helped askin’ ’em!”

“Jane, I hadn’t any idea they’d stay.”

“Well, you’ve gone an’ done it, that’s all I’ve got to say.  Here they didn’t come last night, when I got all ready for ’em, an’ now they’re comin’, an’ everything we’ve got is a picked-up dinner; there ain’t enough of anything to go round.  Flora!”

Her daughter Flora came in from the kitchen, with the children, in blue gingham aprons, at her heels.

“What is it, mother?” said she.

“Nothin’, only your uncle Daniel has asked that Maxwell woman an’ her niece to dinner, an’ they’re goin’ to stay.”

“My goodness! there isn’t a thing for dinner!” said Flora, with a half-giggle.  She was so young and healthy and happy that she could still see the joke in an annoyance.

Her uncle looked at her beseechingly.  “Can’t you manage somehow?” said he.  “I’ll go down to the store and buy something.”

“Down to the store!” repeated his sister, contemptuously.  “It’s one o’clock now.”

He looked at the kitchen clock, visible through the open door, and saw that it indicated half-past twelve, but he said nothing.

Flora was frowning reflectively, while her cheeks dimpled.  “I tell you what I’ll do, mother,” said she.  “I’ll go over to Mrs. Bennett’s and borrow a pie.  I think we can get along if we have a pie.”

“I ain’t goin’ round the neighborhood borrowin’; that ain’t the way I’m accustomed to doin’.”

“Land, mother!  I’d just as soon ask Mrs. Bennett as not.  She borrowed that bread in here the other night.”

“There ain’t enough steak to go round; there’s jest that little piece we had left from yesterday, an’ there ain’t enough stew,” said her mother, with persistent wrath.

“Well, if folks come in unexpectedly, they’ll have to take what we’ve got and make the best of it.”  Flora tied a hat on over her light hair as she spoke.  “I don’t see any other way for them,” she added, laughingly, going out of the door.

“It’s all very well for folks to be easy,” said her mother, with a sniff, “but when she’s had as much as I’ve had, I guess she won’t take it any easier than I do.  I s’pose now I’ve got to take all these things off, an’ put on a clean table-cloth.”

“That one doesn’t look very bad,” ventured her brother, timidly.

“No, I shouldn’t think it did!  Look at that great coffee stain you got on it this mornin’!  Havin’ a couple of perfect strangers come in to dinner makes more work than a man knows anything about.  Children, you take off the knives, an’ pile ’em up on the other table.  Be real careful.”